Last chance
by StarcrossingGirl
Summary: After her graduation, Hermione's life takes a few unexpected turns... chapter six up
1. le prélude

  
_Last chance_   


AN.: Revised the first chapter. Again, a huge thanks to my lovely beta Elaine. I owe you! If you haven't read her story 'Lost and Found', yet, I highly recommend you to do so. It's truly brilliant.   
Whatever, this is eventually supposed to be Snape/Hermione, so if you don't like that pairing, you should better leave.   
I probably have stolen quite a bit from other fanfictions I read, though I promise it wasn't intentionally. I'd love to put your name here, so if you discover anything that's yours, contact me! I simply keep forgetting where my inspirations are from, due to the amount of fanfiction I'm reading at the moment. *g* 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess. 

********** 

le prélude [_= prelude; action or event that happens before another larger or more important one and forms an introduction to it_]

  
  
  


There was light. Light and colors and soft sweet sounds tumbling onto her from everywhere. Happiness hung thick in the air - though you probably wouldn't use the term 'hang' for such a thing she mused - but it did not, as to expect, embrace her. Freckled face turning up in front of her, well-known voice asking her cheerily to dance, light frown passing over same face as she declined. 

"Later Ron, I promise. I'm just not in the mood right now." 

Gone again. For some reason, she suddenly felt as though she was going to suffocate; the colours and the voices of a good hundred young people, swirling into such turmoil, her mind couldn't process anymore. Silently, almost oblivious to her surroundings, she crept along the wall to get to the door then slipped outside as quietly as possible. 

And ran. 

The pressure on her lungs only seemed to intensify with every step she took, and for the first time in her life she felt completely aware of her own body - the way her bare feet touched the ground in those skimpy, high heeled sandalettes, the way her hands had cramped at some point into tight fists, her blood pounding in her ears... 

As she managed to get to her senses again, she found herself standing at the lake.   
In spite of the daily warmth at this time of the year, the nights still came with a chilly breeze, and she shivered slightly in her thin dress. The full moon had just dived behind a set of clouds, which were ghostly white against the night sky. It cast a strange, yet beautiful light across the landscape. At any other time she would have revelled in the pure, exquisite beauty of the Earth -- of nature, of its fine subtle paintings... 

Tonight she only kneeled at the lake's shore, gazing into the dark depths hoping beyond reason they could offer her a solution for her predicament. However, she only saw her own reflection. Brown, curly hair hanging loosely down onto her shoulders, quite normal looking face which had once harboured a pair of enlarged front teeth, though not anymore. The pale moonlight made her skin seem almost transparent, unreal. Exactly how she felt at the moment. No, she decided, beautiful I'm not. Pretty maybe, but what she was missing was that 'inner glow' like Ron had once called it. "Every other girl's appearance just screams 'living', Hermione, it's true! Not that I don't like you, but honestly, sometimes you've got that far away look that makes people think you're in another world. Just try to get out on yourself a little more often..."   
Which was exactly the point. 

She didn't 'get out' because it wasn't her. No, she was Hermione Granger, bookworm, best student of the year and there were certainly things about her that none of her friends would ever understand. Like getting caught up in an arithmetic problem and desperately trying to find a solution until she got one. Or like looking at the burning fire, watching the flames eat away at the wood and drifting off into thoughts about her own existence... 

At first she had tried to make them understand - tried to convey the importance and even more so, the fascination that studying held for her. Tried to communicate the knowledge that learning about things - especially things concerning magic - wasn't simply for school – it was an art in itself. 

Of course she had failed. 

Just with her friends, naturally. Her own attempt at showing the teachers how eager she was to know about magic, although she was a Muggle born, had succeeded gloriously. Just a few hours ago, Minerva McGonagall had proudly admitted to her that Hermione had even beat her NEWT's record. 

But that didn't matter anymore, did it? Because no matter how high her levels were, she wasn't going to put them to any good use. The only thing she truly, dearly yearned for in her life - and she wasn't allowed to get it. 

A tiny sob pushed itself up her throat and past her lips and all of a sudden her legs stopped supporting her. Slowly she sank onto the cold stone in front of the glittering water. Never mind her expensive dress was probably going to be a mess after sitting here. After all, she didn't care about the ball anyway.   


The chilly coldness of the night air hugged her and she realized that even though some part of her desperately wanted to cry, her body wouldn't do it. The tears simply stopped dead, whenever they had managed to creep up her throat.   
Stopped dead, like she had, in a way, because that was the point she had reached at the moment. Dead end. 

"My my, not in the Great Hall to celebrate your triumph? Would have expected you to at least give us all a little speech about that Gryffindor community that made you what you are. Or, considered you weren't granted that inspiration, to sneak down to the lake with no less than dear Weasley's company..." 

She started slightly as the well-known but not necessarily liked voice destroyed the small bubble of her own thoughts. Usually that voice made her back down in consideration - since she was well aware of the fact that any reply was probably unjustified and reason enough to take points of Gryffindor. Why, that had really become a habit over the last seven years. Ignore Snape's sarcastic comments to keep points. Though he'd probably find another excuse for taking them away. 

This evening it didn't matter anymore. Nor did the feeling that she'd always fought so hard for his approval somehow more important to her than the acknowledgement by other teachers - because she had never got it.   
Now his company was the last thing she had wished for. Why had he decided to come down here at all? 

"Just leave me alone." Her voice, already tense, trembled from holding back her tears. 

"So it's no celebration then. Pity." A long silence, so long that Hermione almost wondered if he'd sneaked away quietly. Since he had been a Death Eater, and probably a spy, too - she wasn't sure if she'd interpreted the signs the right way and there wasn't anybody to confirm her suspicions - this kind of talent was liable to be useful. 

"Why?" 

One simple word, and yet not simple enough, for it held so many answers she couldn't even start to think about them. More so, the way he spoke this one word surprised her and sent a strange thrill - of what she didn't know exactly - through her bones. For once, there was no malice in it at all, he simply sounded... curious... and there was even more to it...it was... compassionate? Worried? No way. She was already so deep down she'd started imagining things. Snape being worried and of her - the idea itself was ridiculous. 

A light but very cold breeze blew over the lake, rippling the water and Hermione shook with the cold. She didn't mind for some reason, only stayed frozen in place, wishing for this moment to go on forever. Because then she wouldn't have to give up the beauty of the nature, nor would she have to face the hopelessness and chill of her future. And compared to this cold, the breeze was nothing, for it couldn't reach her bones... 

All of a sudden she felt soft warm material come to rest on her skin, and, coming alert with a start, realized that Snape had draped his cloak over her. 

"You're going to catch a nasty cold outside here." he commented. "And I am certainly not in the mood to brew a new supply of potions for Madame Pomfrey, when I have much better things to do." 

He had come to kneel beside her, and as she turned her head wearily around she was surprised to see that his eyes didn't hold that usual feral glint that spoke of cruelty. 

"Why are you doing this?" she managed to croak hoarsely. 

"I asked you a question first." A more familiar twitch of his lip that was a half sneer. "And you'd better answer it, if you don't intend to freeze to death overnight." 

*But I wanted to sit here in the cold without being disturbed!* her mind objected. Nevertheless, she only set her eyes back onto the water and shrugged helplessly. 

"It's nothing you would understand, anyway." She half expected him to rebuke her for that, to take points off Gryffindor for insolent behaviour towards a teacher… but he only smiled slightly. 

"Never judge people without knowing them. Give it a try." 

The way he was obviously still trying to teach her something, set it off. Something inside Hermione snapped and she harshly turned about, facing him directly. 

"So you want to know what this is about? All right. I have worked the last seven years of my life for nothing. Everything I've done, all the time, all the passion I invested into my work was senseless." She held a hand up, forestalling his inevitable reply. 

"And don't you dare tell me my NEWT's are fabulous. I know it, at least a dozen people have told me tonight and I just couldn't listen to it anymore." 

That sent his left eyebrow flying up. Although he was obviously interested in what she was talking about, he still seemed amused at her unusual display of emotions. 

"So?" 

"So - the day I leave Hogwarts I'll be leaving the wizarding world, too. My parents want me to get a 'real' job, I got accepted at London University, and that's enough for them. I did do my fair share of Muggle education during my holidays or simply out of interest, so that won't be a problem. Contrary to my wizarding career, which my parents 'do not wish to support, with all the danger that goes along with it'. And since none of the universities I had planned to attend, have such a thing as a scholarship, there's no way I will get in. I'm certainly not going to take money from my friends, and earning enough is quite impossible." She drew a deep breath. 

"Are you happy now, knowing that you were right all along - that I simply don't have it in me, and will never become something, at all?!" Her voice had lost its force now she was done ranting, and she shivered beneath his cloak. 

"You stupid little thing," she heard him chuckle slightly and was about to raise her eyes in defiance, when he took her chin in his fingers and tilted it slightly upwards so she would meet his eyes. "You had it in you all the time and you still do," one finger drew a soft line across her cheek and she shied away from the feelings this light touch evoked - she pushed them to the back of her mind without analyzing further what they meant. "You only weren't supposed to know it..." abruptly he stood and held his hand out to her. Reluctantly she let herself be pulled up, her own knees still wobbly. 

"How wonderful it is to hear you admit what all the other teachers have known since my first year," she tried to put as much sarcasm into that remark as possible, which, given her momentary state wasn't much. "It still doesn't solve my problem." 

"Oh, but it might. It just as well might." A slow smile crept across his lips, like she had never before seen with him. 

And without any further comment he slipped his cloak off her shoulders and went back to the castle, leaving her in a mixture of anger, awe and confusion she couldn't really make up.   
  
  



	2. l'anacrouse

AN.: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, though it wasn't that many (probably cause I'm missing Nc-17 stuff, right? *g*). I reformatted chapter one, so it's hopefully easier to read now.   
Special thanks to my beta-reader Miracle who did an excellent job with this chapter. *hug*   
This isn't so much Severus/Hermione, because (comma! *g*) I don't really like stories that rush everything. More to come, though, I promise. And now: Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess. 

********** 

l'anacrouse[_= anacrousis; see prélude_]

  
  
  
  


The next day was luckily Sunday, giving the students a fair chance to sleep in after the ball. Hermione did so, too, and as she finally rose from bed it was well past lunch. Not that she minded, especially not with the headache she was starting to get. 

_Might as well go down to Madame Pomfrey now_, she mused. Later, after a rather long lecture about the dangers of taking a walk out in the cold and two spoonfuls of Poppy's anti-cold potion she headed back to Gryffindor tower. Snape passed her on her way up the stairs but to her utter confusion he completely ignored her. Had she only been dreaming last night then? Come to think of it, his behaviour had been decidedly odd and, with the remnants of her headache pounding behind her skull, it was hard to decide whether it was a true memory or just a fading dream. 

Upon entering the common room, Hermione found Ron and Harry there, sitting in front of the fire, playing wizard's chess. Ron wasn't in an entirely good mood and it took Hermione a while to guess why he was shooting angry glances at her. Blast! She had totally forgotten she had promised to dance with him last evening. Well, it wasn't really her primary concern at the moment, but she definitely resented the idea of spending the last week at Hogwarts with Ron being mad at her. Heaving a deep sigh, Hermione rose and walked towards him. 

"Hey Ron." He shot her another glance, which made her think that he had taken her as seriously as if she had sworn a blood oath. "Look, I realize you're probably disappointed that I just disappeared yesterday evening…" She hesitated a moment, not exactly sure how to continue. 

An angry snort escaped his mouth, and he fixed his eyes on the chessboard. "Well, you were gone rather suddenly," Harry commented. "What was that about, anyway?" 

While she settled down in front of the hearth, Hermione replied: "I just didn't feel well… I was getting a terrible headache" - that was true enough, the thoughts on her mind had resulted in a steady pounding then - "and the loud music wasn't making things better. For some reason, I only wanted to get back in my bed and sleep. I totally forgot I had promised that dance to you, Ron." 

Though he was still grumbling, Ron looked up at her. "It's just that – it was our Graduation ball, and I really would have liked to settle things with a final dance with you, you know? Well, I guess it just wasn't supposed to happen, then." He smiled. "No further grimacing about the past on my part, I promise. Let's face our future, guys!" 

She swallowed thickly, but somehow managed to force a smile onto her face. Great topic that was. And while her mind started drifting off again to her non-existent future, she listened half-heartedly to her best friends' exited chat about their coming career as Aurors. At least if they were talking about themselves they wouldn't get the idea to ask her on her plans, she mused. As if on cue, Harry suddenly turned around to her. 

"What about you, Mione? You haven't let us in on any of your planning." 

"Oh, I guess I'm going to study. I just haven't actually decided on a certain university, yet, there's still some time left and they all have so many fascinating programs…" The more white lies left her lips, the easier it became to invent them, she realized. She still felt badly about lying to her friends, but if she told them the truth they'd only feel pity for her, and she didn't want that. Especially not as it would surely spoil the rest of the time they had left together. 

And so Hermione started reciting university leaflets, talking as exitedly as she could about difficult Arithmancy courses, until the boys got bored and turned to the Auror-subject again. During all that time, she felt like a hot knife was sliding into her stomach, twisting her internal organs around. She had never envied Harry and Ron for anything they got, but now the thought that they were going to make their dreams come true, and she wasn't, made her both incredibly angry and sad at the same time. 

She wasn't going to show that. She was just going to ignore that feeling, enjoy her last days at what had become her second home, and face reality afterwards.   
It turned out to be a terribly long Sunday.   
  
  



	3. l'offre

AN.: Sorry it took me this awfully long to update – but neither my beta, nor myself had much time during the past weeks. Anyway, at the moment I'm desperately searching for a new beta-reader. So if you'd like to help me (especially with grammar and spelling) or know someone, please contact me at starcrossinggirl@aol.com 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess. 

********** 

_l'offre _[_= offer; statement offering to do or give sth to sb_]

  
  
  
  


Classes on Monday weren't as exhausting as usual. At least not the first two hours they had – mixed charms with the Ravenclaws – passed by really quietly. They didn't even have to practice new spells, since Professor Flitwick preferred talking to them about possible future careers. Hermione found it pretty boring. Without having the chance of getting any of the mentioned jobs, she had rather learned something new for herself instead of hearing about things she would never do. Ron and Harry, however, listened with rapt attention, at least when Flitwick came to the advantages of general charms in the Auror business.   
That was probably also the reason why they couldn't understand her depressed mood, as she dragged herself to the dungeons afterwards.   
The pretext of having to face Snape under these circumstances was only making it worse. Because in her mind a little voice wouldn't stop whispering the words he had said to her that starry Saturday night – even though she had decided it had all most likely been a dream. 

If the other student's mood had been extremely lifted through Professor Flitwick's kind and relaxing lesson, their enthusiasm was diminished the second they entered the potions classroom. 

Snape was looking grimmer than usual. In the back of their minds, there had been a timid though that perhaps Snape would change his usual harsh ways of teaching class, considering the fact that they only had two more potions classes at all; it was immediately blown away. 

What they got was a short speech from Snape that left no doubt as to where he saw the results of their NEWT exams. Neville, who had just barely passed due to his fabulous marks in herbology, ducked behind his cauldron to avoid the potion master's nasty glares. All in all he didn't act any differently – at least not into the positive direction. Hermione sat at her place and scowled silently to herself. It just didn't do that he pretended every single student in this class was a moron – not when she knew she had done an excellent job. But he didn't even send her a second glance or tried to catch her eye for a moment – he simply acted as if she were not present. 

The lesson passed without any further incidents. Hermione had already piled up her books in front of her five minutes before the end, and was about to rush out in a hurry as Snape's voice caught her ear. 

"Miss Granger, stay behind for a moment after class!" 

Harry shot Hermione a worried look. Whenever Snape had made **him** stay behind, it had been to make him serve a detention that was completely unjustified most of the time. Giving him a reassuring smile, she waved her hand at him as a signal to get out. After a moment's hesitation she was alone in the classroom with Snape. 

And for some reason, her stomach lurched simply at that though. There was something hovering in the air, and, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, the uneasiness she felt was very real. 

Slowly she picked up her books and her cauldron and headed towards Snape- 

-whose lips were momentarily, no, that couldn't be… twisting in some sort of smile?   
She hadn't realized that she had slowed her step to the extent where she was barely moving forward, until she heard the sharp comment leave his lips: 

"My, Miss Granger, if you intend on walking that slowly we might still be here at lunch." 

Completely embarrassed now, she quickened her step and followed him into his office, sinking onto a chair as he motioned her to. The wood felt hard and unrelenting against her back, and she focused on that dull pain to get her head clear again.   
_Stupid Hermione_! She scolded herself. _You're acting like you're what? A first year again? It's not like he could really do something horrible to you._   
Still she couldn't completely evade the feeling that something was just not going to be right… 

"You're probably wondering, what this is all about." Snape turned and got something out of dark mahogany cupboard in the corner. 

"I did something horribly wrong, which gives you reason to take a hundred points from Gryffindor, and since that would lose us the house cup, you feel the obligation to tell me in person?" 

He chuckled darkly. 

"Unfortunately not." He threw a rolled parchment onto the table before her and Hermione carefully picked it up, still not sure whether it was going to explode the next second or not. 

'Miss Hermione Granger' was written in blood red ink on it, and the seal held a symbol of a dragon bowing its head so it bit its own tail. It seemed strangely familiar, but she couldn't figure out where she had seen it before. A confused frown settled on her brow while she broke the seal. 

"Why do you of all people have a letter that's addressed to me?" He didn't reply, so she guessed the answer to her question was to be found on the paper held by her hand. Unrolling it, she started reading the first few lines, her eyes going wide with surprise. 

'Dear Miss Granger' it said in a clear but sculpted script.   
'We are very pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Malignaux university of advanced potions and analytic witchcraft. Please do understand that due to the limited number of students, we will await your confirmation immediately. Information concerning our recent program and all necessary prerequisites is to be found in the enclosed leaflet.   
With best wishes   
Jaqueline de Gaudard – head mistress' 

Hermione gulped. Again. She closed her eyes and shook her head, not once noticing the bemused Snape observing her. 

Making a great effort, she managed to open her mouth and croak hoarsely: "This…" 

"Yes?" Snape's tone was one of utter amusement, something she had never seen with him before; still it managed to maintain his usual mocking quality. 

It took her a while to regain enough of her wits for talking again. 

"This has to be a mistake." 

"Why so?" 

"They don't accept newly graduated students at Malignaux. I've read enough about this institution to know that much." A distant thought boiled up in her. "If this is some kind of twisted joke…" 

"I assure you, it's not." His long, lean finger picked up a dagger, letting it slide through his hands, while the faint candlelight played on the silver surface.   
"You're right, though. They don't accept graduates there. That is – they usually don't accept them." 

"Unless you have connections?" she vaguely tried. He snorted. 

"Connections aren't everything. Even to Malfoy his connections would be no use there. Madame de Gaudard picks out her students carefully. However," the dagger dropped onto the table, "she does listen to recommendations, if only seldom." 

A short silence passed as Hermione digested that bit of information. 

"What exactly did you do?" She barely saw the shrug of his shoulders, so dizzy was the rush of excitement making her. 

"Send in a couple of your essays. Also a fair bit of your NEWT's test. She is not that much of a fool to watch a great mind go to waste." 

For a second she was certain he hadn't only meant the headmistress with that comment. Then, a flash of something caught her mind and the smile that had started to spread upon her face was extinguished. 

"I can't afford this. You know my parents…" her voice cracked somewhat, "I just don't have the money. Attending a school like that will cost me hundreds of galleons per year." 

"That's already taken care of." 

Her head whipped up at the remark, then she shook it forcefully. 

"I told you I wouldn't accept money from my friends. And likewise, I will definitely not accept it from you, either." 

"I'm flattered you suddenly think so highly of me." His trademark sneer appeared on his lips again. "Nevertheless, I have to disappoint you. The costs for studying there will not be taken by me, but by the school itself. If I remember correctly you are the first witch in about five centuries to get a scholarship there." 

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Hermione approached the last barrier that her mind offered. 

"There are other costs, too. A scholarship contains the mere fees – which is the most important part, in this case – but I also need something besides that." 

"So you got me there." He smirked knowingly at her. "To be quite frank I intended to provide that part," he held up a hand as he saw her tense in her chair, " but not as a gift. I was more thinking of a… bargain." 

She blanched at the possible meanings implied in this – and even more at the distant ringing in the back of her head that was whispering that maybe it wasn't so bad at all… 

"Like what?" 

"Well, I'm going to have to work on a rather important potions project after the holidays and unfortunately, it's something I can't do alone. Since you are very apt in this department and both the headmaster and I expect you to provide valuable work, I request you as an assistant. Which means, of course, you probably have to work twice as hard if you want to keep up at school, and spend most of your free time here, even if it's just to repeat a process a thousand times until it finally it works out. In exchange all you materially require will be taken care of." 

Hermione sat in wonder, blood thundering in her ears, thoughts whirling through her head. Suddenly she understood why Snape was gazing so attentively at her: He wanted an answer now, immediately. And as soon as she had realized that, she knew what the answer was going to be. 

"I accept." 

He nodded silently and inspected her with a glare that left her feeling bared to the bone for a second. 

"I expected you to. So now," he rose and thrust an arm in the direction of the door, "you'd better be off to whatever class you're supposed to have now. No use to start toiling now." 

A soft smile settled on her lips as she turned around and headed outside, stopping again in front of the door to turn around and whisper a nearly inaudible 'thank you'. For a tiny glimpse of an instant a vague sense of foreboding caught in her stomach, but as soon as it had come, it had passed again.   
And while she was running through the corridors of Hogwarts to try and be relatively in time for Arithmancy, the smile on her face had turned into a full-fledged grin.   



	4. le pressentiment

AN.: A huge thanks to my new beta Elaine for this! You're doing a wonderful job! *hugs* 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess. 

**********__

_le pressentiment _[= _presentiment; vague feeling that sth will happen; foreboding_]

  
  
  
  


The next days passed in such a blurry haze that Hermione would not have been able to say anything specific about them, had she been asked afterward. Needless to say, the other students, including Ron and Harry were astonished, not to say thunderstruck, when they got to know about her acceptance at Malignaux. She decided firmly against telling the majority how she had gotten in there in the first place. 

Firstly, it was highly unlikely for them to believe a word, if they ever heard the truth. Secondly, the firm suspicion that nobody **should **know about whatever assignment Snape had in mind for her, kept gnawing in the back of her head. 

So it came that only a few of her fellows were informed of her plan to work as the potion master's assistant during her spare time. And even this small group – to be precise, it contained Harry, Ron and his little sister Ginny – did not know anything about Hermione's family problems and Snape's solution to them. She told them that Dumbledore had offered her the place, and due to her interest in science and research, she had agreed to it. That was all they needed to know, and obviously all they wanted to know, too, since no further questions were raised by their side. 

With the promise of having something to look forward to after her graduation, Hermione could finally enjoy the remaining time at her old school. And for this short period, even the last bit of anxiety aroused by her somewhat unsettling conversation with Snape was soon wiped out, when a proud McGonagall went completely out of character and embraced Hermione in congratulations.   
After that incident, Hermione had a steady bounce in her step and was oblivious to the groans and moans she got for her increased enthusiasm during classes. 

But these days went by quickly, and sooner than anyone had dreamed, the final morning approached. Contrary to the others, Hermione was up shortly after dawn, packing the rest of her belongings quietly into her trunk. As she closed it, she gazed out of the window. The golden summer sun was creeping up above the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Suddenly, she was painfully aware that this was the last time she was going to watch sunrise this way. By closing the heavy lid of her trunk, she also closed the door to a well-known and beloved life.   
It was that whenever one door gets shut, another one opens… but for this moment, she did not want to go forward. 

The distant sound of a door opening filled her ears, and she shook herself out of her reverie. Soon, Gryffindor tower would be a bumblebee's nest, buzzing with the excitement of students--some who had forgotten to pack early enough, or others who were captured by the general travelling mood. 

Stepping away from the window, Hermione headed down the stairs and through the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was not going to be part of that excitement. There was one final thing she had to do, though. 

****** 

The Great Hall was already filling with students, when Hermione made her way down to the dungeons at last. She had been to every other place of the school. Her Transfiguration classroom, the Astronomy Tower…   
All around her, Slytherin boys and girls were running though the corridors. She could have sworn she saw Malfoy shooting her an irritated glance, as she slipped the door to the potion's classroom open, and inside. 

Despite the lively atmosphere outside, the room emanated its usual chill and quietness. A few stray rays of sunlight filtered through the small window. Aside from those, it was completely dark in here. 

Hermione wandered down the stairs to her place, and sat down, propping her head on her elbows. For a long while she just lounged there, revelling in the calmness the room offered. Her friends had always considered the dungeons creepy and intimidating, but she felt oddly safe and comforted. 

A sombre voice tinged with a twinkle of merriment broke into her thoughts.   
"Do you really feel the need to say goodbye to these places, when you know as well as I that you'll soon be returning?" Dumbledore asked from behind her. 

Without lifting her head she responded, "I may come back after the summer, but I'll never see this room, or any of the others that is, with the same eyes again." She didn't have to ask how the Headmaster had read her mind. For some reason he seemed entirely capable of doing it. And so she wasn't in the least surprised as he continued her train of thoughts aloud. 

"You will never be here as a student again, that much is correct." She heard the smile in his voice. "But not everything unknown to our minds will eventually turn out badly." 

Now she **did** turn around, and caught Dumbledore's eye. 

"Then why do I feel like it is best to stay frozen in time and not ever leave the shelter of Hogwarts…?" 

"Even I cannot answer all of your questions, Miss Granger." His smile had changed and his eyes were twinkling slightly. "But do not trouble your mind overmuch with things which have not happened, yet. Often you find out how to face your future when it arrives." 

He stepped closer to Hermione and laid a calming hand upon her shoulder.   
"And now no more of this! Go and have breakfast with the others. You should enjoy the rest of your time here." 

And so Hermione chased away the shadow that clouded her thoughts, and, with a thankful smile to the Headmaster, left the dungeons to join her friends in their hurry.   
  
  



	5. se détacher

AN.: A huge thanks to my new beta Elaine for this! You're doing a wonderful job! *hugs* 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess. 

**********__

_se détacher _[_= to break away (from); escape suddenly_]

  
  
  
  


She awoke to the first rays of sunlight that shone through her window and tickled her. For once, Hermione luxuriated in the feeling of waking up slowly, as she rolled around and hugged her pillow tighter. Just a little longer… 

A loud 'merow!' and a soft paw tapping her face pulled her out of the land between sleep and dream. 

"Morning Crookshanks…" she yawned, and stroked him lazily. "You can't possibly want something to eat **again**, can you?" 

Crookshanks watched her with an expectant look on his face. Food it was, then.   
Swinging her legs out of the bed and pulling the covers from her body, Hermione stumbled to the cupboard across the room and got the cat his breakfast.   
Her parents had disapproved of feeding one's cat in the bedroom, when they had first noticed this habit, but it had turned out that Crookshanks detested eating elsewhere. And so, just as at Hogwarts, he was silently gulping down his food in her presence. 

Hermione walked over to the window and pulled the filmy curtains aside, letting the clear light of the morning sun immediately fill the room. Then she opened the window, pushed her head out of it, and breathed in the fresh and cool air. It was some kind of ritual she had developed because she had to get up so early for class. Which sometimes wasn't easy, especially if you had spent the better part of the night in the library, caught up in an interesting book. Come to think of it, she had always been more a night person. 

After a few minutes she felt thoroughly refreshed and far more awake. She went over to Crookshanks, who had curled up on her bed after finishing eating, and petted him absently. Her digital clock read seven thirty. Definitely too early in the morning for a vacation's day. 

But since she was already up, she figured she may as well get some still-warm croissants from the bakery. Preparing breakfast had always been a thing to get her parents into a light mood, and considered what she was planning to tell them, the lighter their mood, the better it was. 

Hermione decided to take a quick shower – icy cold – then dried her hair with a quick spell. Afterwards she dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and quietly, as not to wake her parents, left the house. 

Crookshanks had again chosen to accompany her on her little walk. Hermione had heard her neighbours say that it was decidedly peculiar for a cat to stroll along with its owner, but then, they said a lot of things. The reason just had to be this strange boarding school the girl was attending, rumours went, because what decent school would allow students to take a pet with them, anyhow? And so, from some of her more curious neighbours she was getting furtive glances, when she was home, from others not so much, for they didn't care about her, or discarded her strangeness as stupid old-ladies talk. 

The owner of the bakery belonged to the second group. She had owned the small shop even when the Granger's had just moved to this part of outer London and hence Hermione had grown up around her. A nice woman she was, not that young, but definitely not much older than her own mother, and Hermione had developed a fondness for her in the early days. Even Crookshanks always got a little treat whenever he went here with Hermione. It was just the same today. 

She allowed herself a small chat with Miss Madley, as usual, bought four croissants for herself and her father, and a small apricot tartlet for her mother. 

The sun was rising slowly about the company of houses. The sky was a clear, bright blue with just a few sprinkles of cloud in it. Everything was perfectly fine, and Hermione knew she should feel comfortable. She didn't, though, at least not to the extent she expected. 

'Do not trouble your mind overmuch…' the voice of the Headmaster rang in her ears again. Funny. She didn't want to trouble herself by withholding the fact from her parents that she wasn't going to a muggle university. Which was why she wanted to tell them as early as possible, meaning this very first morning of the holidays. Which was, at the moment, troubling her a great deal. 

There was no way of stepping back, though. She was aware that her mum and dad wouldn't approve of these new plans; still she couldn't estimate how bad it was going to be. So, while she walked up the way to her door, noticing that the curtains of her parent's room were drawn back, too, she felt a slight knot form in her stomach. 

As she entered the kitchen she found her mother making coffee. Deciding to make a good impression Hermione started to set the table and managed a quite cheerful, "Good morning, mum! I got us some breakfast from Madley's." The paper bag was waved in front of her mother's nose who looked decidedly surprised. 

"Is there anything special today?" Her long slim fingers – Hermione had always admired those and been angry that part of her heritage had missed her – pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, pouring the steaming coffee into them. 

_Caught me!_ it flashed through Hermione's mind. But she shook her head and tried to look wholly innocent. 

"No. It's just first day of the holidays and all that, right?" 

Her mother seemed to accept that as a reason, and so Hermione settled comfortably on her favourite chair, sipping her coffee and plucking at her croissant. Nicholas Granger didn't notice anything odd about her behaviour either, as he joined them at the table and pulled open his London Times. But all the while Hermione felt a slight apprehension. She almost wished him to never finish the paper, for when he did, she would have to tell them. She distracted herself with little mind-games: Reciting several ingredients for potions backwards the way they were added, lining up all the transfiguration spells she knew in their alphabetical order… 

The half hour that it took her father to leaf through the Times seemed to stretch endlessly. Her mother wasn't very talkative, either, she enjoyed these quiet mornings and was used to them, with Hermione seldom there as company. Finally he laid down the enormous mass that had been covering his face and smiled at his daughter. 

"So, do you have any special plans for the holidays?" 

Hermione shifted uneasily in her chair. 

"Not really. Ron offered me to visit his brother in Egypt and I'll probably take up on that. Apart from that… informing myself about my university and getting to know it. That is, if it's possible to visit the campus a week or so before the term begins." 

"You've already decided where to go?" Elizabeth set down her cup of coffee and stared curiously at her daughter. "When did that happen? Is it Blackpool or Oxfordshire, then? They were your favourites, weren't they?" 

"Well, actually… it's neither." She sighed. "I know we've talked about this before, and it's probably ruining both of our holidays, but I want it over with." 

"This isn't about that witch-nonsense again, is it?" Her mother's brows were knitted together in a furious frown. Oh boy, this was not going to be easy. 

"It's **not** nonsense. It's as good a profession as being a lawyer is. Witchcraft…" 

"We already finished that discussion. Letting you go to this school was one thing, letting you slip entirely into this… this strangeness and this community of weird people is different! You need to be around real people more, or you'll…" 

"I AM around real people, mum!" Hermione had risen and glared at her mother, "Harry and Ron, and everyone I got to know at Hogwarts is as real as you or I! Only thing that's different from normal folk is that they can do magic. I know you don't approve of it. But you have no idea how much this is hurting me." 

"You could well do without magic." she said, enunciating every word. "You're a smart girl, Hermione. You could be anything. You don't need this." 

"You really don't understand, do you?" Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. This was not looking good, but she wouldn't give in, not even for her mother. 

"This isn't about what I **could** do. This is about what I want, what I excel at, what I am. Magic is a part of me, and just because you can't understand it, it doesn't mean you can shut me off from it. I'd rather do this with you accepting it. You don't have to like it, only put that much trust in me to know I'll be okay." 

Elizabeth still didn't look convinced. She shot a half glance at her husband. 

"Say something to her, Nicholas. You don't support these plans, do you?" 

For a few seconds there was a terribly tense silence in the room. Hermione watched her father pinching his nose, something he seldom did, and only if he was troubled very much. 

"I have to agree with your mother, partially, Hermione. I think you would do much better getting an employment somewhere in real life." 

Her shoulders sacked. At least her father should offer her some respect, or so she had hoped. 

"But I also understand that you want to decide about your own life yourself. In fact, I've had quite a similar discussion with my parents when I was your age, only they didn't want me to study." 

"You never told me that." Hermione stated blankly. 

"There was no reason to. I think it will be fair to leave you a bit of choice in this matter. But like your mother and I decided long ago, we won't sustain these studies. If you want to do this so much I know we can't keep you from it – but you can at least work for having your own way." 

A sigh of relief escaped Hermione's lips. 

"That's already taken care of. I managed to get a scholarship at a university with a very good reputation, and for the rest I got a job at my former school during holidays. That wasn't what I was worrying about." 

Her mother's expression spoke volumes about how she thought of the situation. 

"I still don't like it. And don't you dare think you can just show up here again, if things aren't going the way you expect them to!" 

"Beth…" Hermione's father tried to soothe, but the stern look on her face didn't waver. I'd use the dad's name, otherwise the stern look sounds like it's referring to Hermione. 

"Don't 'Beth' me. I don't even want to think of what the implications to this are. But since you'll be spending all of our times either at this university or at the other school, I suppose it's not like I'd see much of you, at anyway." She pulled back her chair and stood stiffly. "I think I'll be taking a short trip to my sister, **now**. And when I return, I hopefully won't have to concern myself with any of this again." 

With that she briskly moved out, leaving Hermione desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. It didn't work this time. Soon she was curled up on the floor, sobbing like the little girl she had once been frightened by a storm. 

Her father kneeled down beside her and took her into his comforting arms. 

"She'll come around eventually, pet, I promise. She just needs more time." He shushed into her ear and Hermione badly wanted to believe him. Right now it didn't feel like his words were true. Right now she only perceived the loss of her mother.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. la terre vierge

  
An.: Yes, it took me a while for this. In the future I intend to update rather larger chapters more seldom, than little bits every day. Nothing much happens for now, this chaper has some sort of introducing function.   
Thank you for all the reviews I've gotten. It always makes my day to see that this is not completely in vain, but at least enjoyed by a few people.   
Again a huge thanks to my beta Elaine, who has to help me with my passion for unnaturally looooooong sentences. *bg* 

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess.   


********** 

la terre vierge [_= new ground; a place or situation that yet unknown_] 

  
  
  


"La place d'appel est vraiment belle, n'est-ce pas?" 

Hermione started slightly at the voice that intruded her thoughts and turned around. The speaker was a young woman, a bit shorter than Hermione, with skin of a deep caramel coloured tan and long black hair hanging freely onto her shoulders. She definitely looked like she had ancestors from the South – Italy, maybe, or Spain - Hermione decided. Her brown eyes watched her curiously, but all the same she had a friendly and open air about her. 

The pause caused by Hermione's attentive regarding of her vis-à-vis was clearly misinterpreted, for the woman laughed and shook her head slightly. 

"I am sorry. You are probably not from 'ere, and I speak Français to you…" 

"Oh that's quite alright." Now it was Hermione's turn to smile. "I can speak French fairly well, at least enough to communicate without problems." 

"Then it doesn't bother you, if we keep talking in French?" the woman replied, immediately lapsing into her mother tongue again. 

"Of course not. And oh, yes, it is really beautiful here." 

She studied her surroundings once more. Standing in the inner court, she looked directly upon the vast lawn in the middle. Several trees grew upon the green grass. The scent of leaves mixed with that of the flowers blooming on the walls of the main building. Combined with the bright afternoon sun blazing in the sky, it made you think of holidays, only that Hermione had no thought related to a carefree time whatsoever. True, school started only in another week, but a few owls passing between the university and the Londoner hotel she recently inhabited had made it possible for her to arrive herel a week early. 

_Obviously I'm not the only one_, she thought while returning her gaze to the young woman and holding out her right hand. 

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to start courses here with the new term, and since there have been some, ahm, inconveniences, I thought it best to come here sooner than most of the students." 

The other girl flashed her the most dazzling smile. 

"Oh yes, I know. Madame de Gaudard asked me to pick you up. She's already awaiting your arrival." With that she took Hermione by the arm and pulled her into the building behind them. 

"And you are?" Hermione felt a bit uneasy at the other woman's composure. Either she had simply forgotten to introduce herself, or she didn't regard it as necessary. It turned out to be the first. 

"What? Oh, sorry, I was already thinking of the courses we'll probably take together," again this smile – how often could a human being grin, anyways? – "My name's Julie Marchoise. I'm starting here as well this term, though unlike you I've finished my introducing year at India." 

Hermione gulped. _India?_ Her wonder must have shown on her face, for Julie immediately explained, "Well, that's because my family lives on Réunion. And despite them being really annoying sometimes, I wanted to spend some time closer to them than all the years when I was at Beauxbatons. And there's quite a good university at India, so," she shrugged, "why not go there?" 

"But it's not like you have to go half a day by plane if you want to visit them from France. I mean, Floo Powder and Apparition don't call for closeness, do they?" 

"Guessed you'd pick that. Well, no, they don't, but even the bodies of witches don't adjust if you regularly switch between two time zones that different." 

_Of course. The world is a ball, after all._ For a second the wish to smack herself over her head boiled up in Hermione. Something that simple and she couldn't even think of it herself. 

For a short while, Julie stopped talking, and Hermione was rather glad of it. The short distance she'd walked earlier from the magical barriers of Malignaux to the castle itself had given her a slight headache, a result of the humid heat of this summer's afternoon. Inside the castle, she noticed now, it was pleasantly cool, and the air was much drier. Still, plenty of light got into the corridor through the wide, spacious windows. She had just gotten a lot more comfortable, when Julie suddenly stopped in front of a door. 

"There we are. You can go in yourself, I just meant to deliver you." Slight twinkle in her eye. "I hope I didn't scare you off – I always tend to talk too much. We'll probably see each other later then, okay? Bye!" 

And gone she was. Hermione, still a bit dumbfounded and not quite sure what to make of her, hesitated a moment, knocked on the door, once.   
  
"Come in!" a melodic voice in French called out. 

Hermione pushed back her shoulders with as much resolve as she could muster, and entered the room. A woman about forty was sitting behind a wooden desk, shoving a pile of parchments into a folder. She rose politely and motioned Hermione towards a chair. At first sight, the younger woman found it hard to believe that this was someone Severus Snape regarded with all possible respect. At least he had given her that impression, when they corresponded over her study's details throughout the last weeks. From how he had talked about her, Hermione had rather expected a tall, dark witch who easily frightened people. This woman seemed like the exact opposite: Her stature was small, almost frail in build. Her blonde hair wasn't strictly pinned up, but down on her shoulders. 

_"If I might give you a final piece of advice," she heard Professor Snape say to her the last time she'd seen him at Hogwarts, "do me a favour, and don't underestimate the Headmistress. I do not wish to see her wrath fall on me, only because you don't keep up to the glowing images I drew of you to convince her."_

"So you're Hermione Granger." Mme de Gaudard fixed Hermione's gaze with her own, and suddenly the girl understood that looks were indeed deceiving in this case. These eyes were boring themselves into her mind, powerful and demanding at once, telling her clearly on some unspoken level, that this was not someone to be played with. 

"Yes." Hermione fought the strange shudder that ran down her spine. 

"Well," the older woman began to shuffle through the parchments, looking on them, and then returning her gaze to Hermione, "you do have a lot of good recommendations, here. Or great recommendations, I should better say, since this is the first time I remember Severus saying anything positive about a student. Voluntarily, even more so." 

She shut the file that contained the dicuments with a sudden 'clap' that made Hermione jump. 

"However, you will soon discover that I don't give too much on other people's opinions. They may be justified or not, but the only thing that counts here, are your accomplishments. Did I make myself clear on that point?" 

Hermione only managed to nod. 

"All right, then." The force in these eyes disappeared as soon as it had occurred, and Mme de Gaudard held out her hand to Hermione. 

"Welcome to Malignaux." 

Trying to keep herself from shaking, Hermione clasped the offered hand. The Headmistress' grip was as firm as her eyes, but now there was a different air about her, more cordial, which was confusing. How could the atmosphere in the room turn a hundred and sixty degrees in just a second? 

"If I remember correctly you wish to move here early, don't you?" 

"Yes. Otherwise I won't have a place to stay." Which was sort of true – her Muggle money was almost finished, and she couldn't afford another week at a hotel. Fleetingly she wondered whether Snape had told de Gaudard about her parents, then let the thought drop. If the Headmistress didn't mention it, she certainly wouldn't push the matter. At the moment, she still evaded the subject, dreading the now familiar sting from her heart that came along with it. 

"That is no problem at all." The older woman handed her a piece of parchment. "This map shows the location of the faculty. You'll find your quarters here," she pointed to a particular section. "I assume you've already met Miss Marchoise?" 

"She brought me here." 

"Then I'm certain she'll find it a pleasure to help you settle. And if there should be any problems – address me directly. At the moment I still have some time to handle such business." 

Hermione rose and smiled still a bit timidly. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

She was just stepping through the door, when the voice of the headmistress rang after her, "Oh, and Miss Granger? Good luck." 

*** 

As it turned out, Julie was going to be her roommate. 

"Well, roommate is probably the wrong word," she chattered while helping Hermione carry her luggage to her quarters. "It's more like the students are split into small communities, about four or five students from the same year. This isn't anything like your sleeping dorms at Hogwarts. After all, we pay enough money to deserve a chamber of our own. So, everybody has a bedroom, and each community shares a living room and a kitchen." 

"Kitchen?" That was surprising. Hermione had never entertained the thought of learning to cook, especially since, at Hogwarts, one never had to worry about that sort of thing. At home there had been her mother… She gritted her teeth. _That's of the past now. No more 'Hermione! Dinner's ready!' – get used to it!_ She looked back at Julie who shook her head in emphasis. 

"Yes, I don't get it either. What does she think? The people who make it here have so much money they'll certainly have house elves further on in life," Hermione couldn't help but wince at that, "so there's no reason why they have to do it themselves here." Julie snorted derisively. "My mother said it's all about taking responsibility and care of yourself and others." Seeing the confusion on the other girl's face, she hurriedly continued, "well, because you're not only supposed to cook for yourself but for your whole community." She shrugged. "I hope we'll get at least someone who's got at it, because I don't have a clue. What about you?" 

Too stunned by Julie's speed of speech, Hermione simply shook her head. She hadn't quite understood her explanation earlier, but now she got why Julie had presented herself as too talkative. The only person she could compare her to, was Parvati. _And here I thought intelligent people are always reflective and introverted… Okay, so Parvati only talks about boys and make-up, but the resemblance…_

"Do you always talk that fast?" The words had left her mouth before she could stop them. 

Fortunately, instead of looking offended, Julie clapped a hand to her face. 

"I'm sorry," Hermione said hastily, "it's just rather difficult to follow, since French isn't my mother tongue, and all that." 

"Oh, that's fine," the black-haired girl was already grinning again, thank God, "You even **have** to mention this if I repeat it. It's a bad habit I guess. I can talk people into oblivion, or so my father always says, especially when I know what I'm talking about. You think this is fast? You haven't seen me in a discussion about, say, arithmancy, yet. – Oh, we're there!" 

Hermione watched the other witch lay a bare hand on a white marking on the stone wall before them. 'Danser sur la plage' she whispered, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, she was downright sucked into the wall, and disappeared with the trunk she'd been holding. After hesitating a second, Hermione repeated the actions and the phrase – 

- and, without any warning, was pulled into darkness with a force that stunned her. A white stone floor came into her view, as she stumbled out of this void, and into a room. Pulling herself up from the ground, she discovered Julie next to her, laughing. 

"I probably should have warned you. It's a bit like travelling through the Floo network – you have to get used to it." 

"And what exactly… was that?" 

"Selectus charm. Way more effective than a simple password – first of all, the entry isn't where the room is located. Plus, if you don't have both the body structure –therefore the touching – **and** the password, it sets off the alarm. We can still take along guests, but we have to give their names before passing the barrier ourselves." 

"Whew." Hermione was impressed. "But isn't that… exaggerated for a college?" 

"This **was** the residence of the Heads from the French Ministry of Magic, some decades ago. I assume they didn't bother replacing them. They're effective and not complicating things too much, so, why not?" 

Nodding, Hermione looked around the room, taking in every detail. 

"That explains why there still is a fireplace. Or is it disconnected?" Curiously she went closer, and laid her palm onto the wooden mantelpiece. 

"Don't know," Julie shrugged. "And I didn't think about checking, either…" 

The room they were standing in was obviously the living room – small, but cozy, with a Mediterranean flair. The only thing that looked out of place was the large hearth with its dark wooden outlines. Everything else – the floor, the furniture, the walls were kept in light shades, mostly beige and pastel yellow and orange. It looked a bit naked, though… 

"We can decorate this the way we want it?" she asked, amazed. The only time of the year she used to have a room to herself, had been the holidays at home. So much already adorned the walls at Hogwarts—there was no space for any other paintings... And the dorms were shared by several students, so the students didn't bother hanging individual personal affects anywhere. 

"Don't be too enthusiastic," Julie warned her, "there are still some people that have to agree with your choices – except for your bedroom. Which is upstairs…" 

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Hermione followed her new friend up the steps, using Wingardium Leviosa to move her trunk and Crookshank's cage. This seemed fairly good, if she compared it to her former lifestyle. _Okay, it isn't Hogwarts – but it's something. A start._ And Julie was probably nice as well – at least she didn't look down on her. Ignoring her babbling couldn't be that difficult, could it?   
  
  



End file.
